


Your teeth in my neck

by Malaiikka



Category: Avengers:Age of Ultron - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationship, Marvel Fandom Scramble 2020, Prompt Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:15:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24451924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malaiikka/pseuds/Malaiikka
Summary: for the prompt, Brock x Wanda in a bakery au for the marvel fandom scramble challenge (2020).•••“Hey,” he lifts her chin up. “Something else on your mind?”Doubt. Wanda has doubt in her mind, but Brock won’t want to hear that, so she pushes it down, chooses to trust him no matter how much her gut tells her not to.“Nothing just--” she leans in, takes his hand. “Can I come see you tonight?”
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 12
Kudos: 10
Collections: Marvel Fandom Scramble 2020





	Your teeth in my neck

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've never written for this pairing before and It was kind of hard making it work in a bakery au of all things because that's so not either of them, but I had fun writing those. Hope you enjoy.

He comes in every Thursday at two o’clock in the afternoon. 

“You know,” Wanda begins, setting Brock’s cup on the table, “There’s a coffee shop right next to the bakery. You don’t have to come here just for coffee.”

She shouldn’t stand around talking to customers, and Irina is sure to have her hide for it-- but the old woman isn’t here now, so Wanda dallies, hovering over where Brock is sitting. 

“Oh yeah,” Brock starts, and pushes his sunglasses atop his hair, “Maybe I come here for the service,” he adds with a smile. 

Wanda gets the feeling it’s his attempt at charming. He’s in one of his better moods.

But even then, his smile reminds her of a shark’s and it sends a shiver down her spine. Wanda ignores this too.

She plops herself down and the conversation goes quiet. Brock inhales his coffee; it’s low-grade black slop—the kind that’s only available in a shit hole like Sokovia, but this isn’t enough to deter him from swallowing it in three big gulps. 

He leans back, the plastic chair creaking underneath his weight. “You been practicing your English?” 

“Yes,” she affirms, switching to English, nodding her head vigorously. “Every night with Pietro. I’m getting better,” she affirms again, almost like she’s pleading. It’d been one of his stipulations before he’d taken Pietro and her in. 

“That’s good—very good to hear Wanda,” he says. Wanda preens under the praise, pulls her braid over one shoulder. Brock smirks at her and she temps down a smile. 

She points with her chin across the street through the open doors. “It used to be a Starbucks, you know.” She switches to Sokovian. 

“What? That rubble over there?” 

“Mhm. Probably the only one that used to be around these parts-- As soon as the bombs started dropping-” she scoffs, “-well, they couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” 

Brock leans forward, clasps his arms together over the table. Wanda continues. 

“I’ve only ever had it once. My mum brought us here.” The memory - one of her last ones with her parents - floats through her mind. Sokovia had always been a poor country. She’d thought it so luxurious at the time, with its warm lights and quiet music, the scent of freshly brewed, quality coffee wafting throughout the shop. 

“You miss them?” 

Wanda’s eyes narrow at him. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I miss them—they were - _are -_ my parents,” her voice has risen and Brock puts his arms up. 

Her voice goes low. “They were my parents, and Stark killed them.” 

Brock—Brock takes her arm. Clasps one hand in his own, rubs over her pulse point with a calloused thumb. And then, it’s like the floodgates open. 

“I miss them.” She doesn’t try to wipe away her tears, even though he’s sure to think she’s weak. “I think of them every day.” 

And then quietly to herself, “Pietro looks at me like I have all the answers now and I-I don’t know what to do...I can’t do it by myself.” 

He leans even more and Wanda meets. Their foreheads almost touch, as if they were conspiring. His voice is gruff when he speaks. 

One hand goes to her cheek, wipes at the wetness there. “It’s good Wanda,” he begins and Wanda nods. “That sadness, the rage, it’s what’s going to keep you alive where I'm going to take you. Don’t forget what they did to you—What _Stark_ did,” Wanda nods some more. How could she ever? 

“They think that just because they can build fancy suits that fly, or dope themselves up on steroids--turn themselves into freaks, it makes them heroes? We know better; don’t we, Wanda?” 

“Anyone of them that allies themselves with Stark is no hero,” she spits, venomous. 

Brock pats her cheek twice. “That’s what I like to hear.” And then the moment is over. 

He makes to stand up, fixes his clothes, pulls the dark sunglasses over his eyes. 

“Your brother isn’t slacking off, right? He needs to be in shape; you too, by the way,” he says, pinching at her cheeks, “It’s all basic; think of it like the military. They’ll need to see what you can handle before the tests.” 

“He’s been doing what you told him. Every day,” she reassures him, and he nods once accepting it. Wanda walks over to the counter, packs him some walnut and Paska bread in a worn plastic paper. 

“For you.” He takes it with him, just like every other time. Wanda walks the short distance to the door with him, lingering. 

“Hey,” he lifts her chin up. “Something else on your mind?” 

Doubt. Wanda has doubt in her mind, but Brock won’t want to hear that. So she pushes it down, chooses to trust him no matter how much her gut tells her not to. 

“Nothing just...” She leans in, takes his hand. “Can I come see you tonight?” 

She practically sees the _no_ forming on his lips, and she’s ready to accept it. He comes to her, not the other way around. Except for the first time, but they don’t talk about that. 

“Why?” he asks, rolling his eyes like it’s such an absurd request. 

“Something wrong with wanting to see you?” she throws back, and he squeezes her hand. A warning. 

He huffs, rolls his eyes again. “Fine,” he grits out, like it's the most burdensome thing he's ever had to do.

Then, Brock leans in.

The kiss is entirely inappropriate as they stand in broad daylight. Someone is sure to take offense. Sokovians are prudes like that.

He doesn’t kiss her for very long, evidently having better places to be, but it still leaves her jolted, shaken in a way she's never experienced before. 

“Fine,” she gloats, throwing his own words back at him. 

“Keep practicing—and I already told you not to roll your r’s so damn hard—see you tonight.” With that he crosses the street, not sparing Wanda any looks back. 

“Tonight,” she whispers to herself. Wanda heads back inside.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> if you've gotten this far, comments are deeply appreciated. You can find me on Tumblr at [malaiikka](https://malaiikka.tumblr.com)


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